


Dr. Watson's Bad Day

by Katzedecimal



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anderson being thick, Angst, BAMF!John, Dark, E-mail, Gen, Guns, PTSD, Triggers, Violence, Violence against Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John sends Sherlock an e-mail, telling him about the bad day he's having.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dr. Watson's Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Talimenios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talimenios/gifts).



> For Talimenios, who requested some John being BAMF. Is this BAMF enough?

Dear Sherlock,

Hope you're having fun in Dublin. Don't wish you were here. Wish I was there. Actually I wish I was anywhere but here. I'm having a bad day. Do you want to hear what kind of day I'm having? You probably don't but I want to tell you because you're the only one who'd understand. 

It started off when I took a call at the surgery. It was Lestrade. He was looking for you, I told him you were off to Dublin. He took me instead and off we went to a murder scene. It was still fresh and they were still locking down the area. Someone sure had a fast 999 finger.

_Why_ does Anderson still have a job? Mind you he might not for much longer, if he doesn't pull through this. He was swanning around the scene, spouting off this and that nonsense, don't ask me what, I wasn't listening. You'll understand that. He was spouting off some nonsense and completely failed to notice that the victim's coat and collar were damp but his pocket umbrella was dry. Sounds familiar? Yes, it did to me, too, but apparently not to Anderson. Or possibly he has a memory like a sieve. The weather was clear all through the British isles today **but** there was a big storm over the north of France, so I suggested they search the victim for a plane ticket. I was close, it was a Eurostar ticket, he'd come through the Chunnel. 

That struck me as a tiny bit odd, somehow, I'm not sure why. He didn't have much with him, not even an overnight bag. His wallet showed an address in London, family picture of wife with baby, older child, the usual. Older ID showed an address in France, so he probably moved after he got married. A background check showed our man was in his late 30s, married a few years ago, transferred within his company to their London offices to be with his wife and her son by her previous husband. All of his cards and cash were in his wallet and he still had his mobile. Robbery didn't appear to be the motive and he seemed an ordinary bloke, so who'd want to execute him? Yes, I know it won't surprise you at all that Anderson missed that the victim hadn't merely been shot, he'd been executed, with a very precise shot. 

When I pointed that out, Anderson started going on about gang executions and fabricating a theory out of his usual pixie dust. Honestly, Sherlock, the more I deal with the man, the more I wonder why Lestrade puts up with him. I know you think Lestrade's an idiot and most of the time I don't agree with you, but then I look at the people he keeps on his team and well, I start to see your point of view. The victim didn't look much like your average gangster or hanger-on, he looked more like your average office jobsworth, as the cursory background check stated him to be. So I asked for a deeper check on the victim and also a check into the wife's background. 

Sherlock, I had to fight for it. I had to fight to get them to do a background check on the wife, with Anderson arguing about privacy the whole way. I'm a doctor, for pity's sake, I know about privacy! I'm also an army captain and I know a sniper's shot when I see one. I got into an almighty row about it. It took a while and I just had a feeling. Finally the information came back and sure enough, she's an army widow. Her husband was killed in action a few years ago in - get this - Afghanistan. Surprised? - No, you're not, because you're Sherlock, and I wasn't surprised either because I've been there. By this time, Lestrade's request for the victim's mobile record had come back. 

Well that explained the 999 call -- the victim was on the phone with his wife when he was shot. No doubt she heard it and wasted no time. That was when I knew I was probably right. I asked Lestrade to send a team over to the wife's location immediately and to be prepared to find our man armed and dangerous. Which started Anderson's lips flapping again, How could I possibly know that and on and on and on, because he doesn't THINK for five minutes aaaand now I sound like you. Because if he had THOUGHT for five minutes, he would have realised that our man had to have known that we would see the call on the mobile history, but he didn't destroy the phone, which means he doesn't care if he's caught. Because he has nothing left to lose. 

Which is when Lestrade caught up to me and started barking orders, because he'd finally realised what I knew fully fifteen minutes ago: That our shooter is the wife's not-so-late-after-all husband. Picture it, can't you? I can, all too well: Our man's disappeared, probably taken as a prisoner, with all that entails. Somehow he's extricated and he comes home years later, only to find that he's been declared dead, his home is sold, his wife's married someone else, had someone else's child, and his own son is being raised by a different dad. He's got nothing and is no one and he's probably got worse PTSD than I ever did and he's snapped it. He hunts the new husband in France, but our victim gives him the slip and takes a Eurostar back to London to try to get to his wife and family. He's on the phone warning her when our man catches him up and takes him out, and our victim likely didn't even know he was there. And now our man's off to see his ex. 

So we were all piled off and up to the wife's location but of course, it was too late. She's done and the kids aren't in good shape, not good at all. They'd cordonned off the area but said they hadn't found our man yet and the hair on my neck went up. I knew, Sherlock, I just _knew._ You get a sense for these things after a while, in Afghanistan. If you don't, you don't live, that's all there is to it. Problem was, those kids were in bad shape, they weren't going to wait for the paramedics. Just like Afghanistan, Sherlock; diving in to get the injured with a sniper in the area, don't know where he is, knowing I might be the next victim and I won't even know what's hit me. I told the others to stay well back until the area was _proven_ secure but Anderson was more eager to start matching bullets on the wife. He came swaggering in, telling me all authoritative that our man was likely long gone. And then he found out just how wrong he was. Hello! Welcome to Afghanistan!

You'll have figured it out, of course. Our man was already teetering on the brink, then he got caught in the police cordonne and that was all it took to push him over, he's having a psychotic break now. He **is** back in Afghanistan, we **are** Taliban soldiers, and we're standing over his children and his dead wife and he probably doesn't remember that he's the one who killed her. He's armed, he's hidden himself well, he's hallucinating, and he's just taken out an enemy soldier (ie, Anderson.) 

Thank God I keep my dog tags and my ID on me at all times. I identified myself and tried to talk him down. For a while there, I thought I might be getting through to him but I don't know what happened, whether his hallucination presented me as a Taliban captain or what went on there, but I lost him. It went bad in a hurry, exchange of gunfire. Got myself a new scar but it's superficial and I had more important things to worry about, I had three victims to stablise. Sergeant Donovan stood over me to protect me while I worked. She took a shot across the bicep, lost her firearm but the angle was good enough for me to see where the muzzle flash was. Sally's gun is a legal weapon and I had my gloves on, I'll let her take the credit. 

So now we're waiting at OR. Anderson's shot _just_ missed his kidney but did a lot of damage on the way out. The good news is, he's shut up for a while, they need to keep him sedated. Sally took a cut along the cheek, fell onto some glass shards when her arm was shot. She pissed and moaned about it though, frankly, I think she saw the same thing I did - I took one look at the on-duty bloke's stitchwork and did my own honours, thanks. Did hers as well. She complained the whole time so I told her to look at the scar above your left eye in your hairline. She said, What scar? I said, Exactly. That shut her up but I expect she'll be peering at you the next time she sees you. Just humour her, will you? And no cracks about 'What good looks', either. 

They're working on the kids in the other ORs. It's touch and go, especially for the baby. If we lose the baby, Sherlock, I will cry. I'm not ashamed to say it, I _will_ cry if we lose that baby. They've got a chance, though. If we'd gotten there any later, it would have been five bodies, not three. 

So that's my bad day. I told you once, I did have them. Probably going to be a bit moody for a while, after this. I don't expect that'll bother you. Pretty glad about that, actually. There are times when I just don't want to talk, either, especially after a bad day. Can't help but feel sorry for the bloke though, you know? It's a sort of "there, but for the grace of God, go I" sort of thing. I know I have PTSD and you know about the flashbacks and the nightmares, of course. I'm always a tiny bit worried that I'm going to go like that poor fellow, you know? Have a psychotic break and end up hurting a lot of people. I hope that never happens but I'm always a little bit afraid that one day, it will. 

Well, ta for now. Won't keep you any longer, I know you're busy. And I've got a long night ahead of me yet, I just won't be able to sleep until I know if those kids are going to pull through. See you when you get home. 

\-- John

* * * *

[01:22 SH: Sorry I wasn't there. Dublin case is dull.]

[01:23 SH: Watching you work is never dull.]

[01:23 SH: Well done.]


End file.
